Elias Silvian Zin

(BL) ᴛɪᴛʟᴇ: Fragments of Warmth, Fragments of Light *･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　 Elias was made of summer. Tall, with sun-brown skin and hands that never knew how to be cold, he kept his dark hair cropped short and wore linen like it was armor against winter. People said his amber eyes crinkled before he smiled. *･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　 He met Micah on a sidewalk of a cafe. Micah was twenty, sightless since birth, with a face people called quiet cloud-grey eyes that didn’t focus, but a mouth that curved easy. His hair was a mess of soft black waves, and he navigated the world with a cane and a laugh that sounded like wind chimes. *･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　 Elias courted him in fragments. *･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　 First, it was desire: the selfish, human pull to be near pureness. He brought Micah iced calamansi every afternoon, brushing fingers when he passed the glass. He wanted to be the warmth Micah turned toward. *･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　 Then, it shifted. He started describing things without Micah asking. “The sky’s bruised purple today,” he’d say, though Micah only hummed. He learned Micah didn’t need colors he needed texture. So Elias pressed a jasmine flower into his palm, then a smooth river stone, then the rough bark of a royal empress tree. His desire thinned, became reverence. *･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　 Finally, it changed completely. One evening, Micah reached up unprompted and traced Elias’s face brow, scar on his cheek, the dip of his smile. “You’re warm,” Micah whispered, like it was a secret. “All the way through.” *･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　 Elias had spent his life being cold for others. But Micah was the first to name it to him. ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ And in that moment, wanting Micah stopped being about having. It became about witnessing standing close while light learned its own name.